The Inquisitor
by Coutelier
Summary: Ten years after defeating Mellissan, Aerie has become a one Avariel army, destroying slavers everywhere.  But Imoen is worried... how much has her friend given up for this?


This piece was written to celebrate the tenth anniversary of ToB. Ten years on, Aerie is engaged in a war with slavers. But her friends her worried about her; is she really happy?

**The Inquisitor**

"Shut the gates!" The limp rider screamed with almost the last of his breath as his horse cantered into the courtyard. He fell from the saddle with a splash, the rain beating all around him; several gathered around his supine form, saw that his clothes and skin were badly blistered and burned, while several more went to work turning the drums on which huge chains coiled around, the iron gates slowly creaking shut with a terrific thud. "She… s-she's coming," the rider told his comrades, before his eyes flicked shut for good.

The commander, who had seen so many fall to this beast, left the man lying there as he turned to face those still alive. "All right," he told them, nodding as the bar was placed across the gates and the portcullis lowered behind it; he was under no illusion that would hold their enemy for long. "Everyone get ready!" He drew his sword. Around him a dozen men readied their bows, and about half a dozen wizards readied their spells, and they watched the gates, and waited… and they waited…

_THUD… _the gates shook. _THUD…THUD… _and silence. They waited.

"T-that's gotta be three feet of oak and iron, right?" One of the less experienced men said. "Not even a Fire Giant could break that down, right?" No one answered him. They all just waited, the commander kept his sword raised high, waiting to give the order for his men to open fire with all they had. After a few more minutes of silence, he did allow himself a very brief moment of euphoric relief, thinking that maybe she'd actually given up and gone away… but he should have known better. She never quit; no matter what you did, she just kept coming, and coming. It was like she was made of rock, like a golem, only much worse.

He heard hissing… he was confused at first, but it soon became apparent; steam was rising from around the gate, the rain droplets evaporating the instant they touched any of the metal. Soon all the bars around the gate and the portcullis were glowing red.

"Here she comes…" the commander trembled. In all his years, he'd never encountered a foe so relentless, and powerful. .. a blinding flash. Two archers and one of the wizards who didn't duck quite in time were peppered by flying shards of wood and molten metal… _damnit… he couldn't see…_ a thick cloud of steam and smoke swept in from where the gates used to be. _There! There she was… _he could see the outline of a small hooded figure stepping over the rubble, the silhouette's cloak obscuring whether it was male or female, but it had to be her!

"Fire!" The commander yelled, dropping his sword. Arrows whistled through the air, magic blasted and crackled all around… it all bounced and created ripples on some kind of barrier around the target… but that couldn't stay up for long. They just had to keep attacking… but why wasn't she doing anything to retaliate?

The figure just walked, calmly, across the courtyard, not even flinching as any of the fireballs burst around her shield. She stepped up onto the back of a cart, and then turned around, pointing her staff at the soaked ground beneath her. Then she started to mutter something… the commander couldn't hear, but…

"Oh… shiii…" he realised what was going on far too late. How could he have made such a stupid mistake? They'd all been stood _in_ the courtyard,_ in_ the rain, waiting for her… but it was too late. The last thing he saw was a flash, the last thing he heard was a crackling, and the last thing he smelt a strange metallic smell as the lightning bolt snaked out through the salty water through his boots and the boots of all his men. Their flesh bubbled and burnt until the only living thing out there was a small elven woman sat on the back of a manure cart.

The rain killed the smell of the manure, not that it would have bothered her that much anyway; she'd gotten used to far more potent stinks than that when she'd worked in the Circus, years ago.

* * *

><p>Soon after, the Elf released the prisoners held at the fort. Their clothes were ragged and they were all skinny and pale, but these were not slaves; at least not yet. They were nobles and merchants or their family members, being held for ransom; if they're family and friends failed to pay up, then likely they would have been sold on to slavers. This time however, they were lucky; the Elf told them they were free and then she left them.<p>

"Er… th-thank you, miss," one man said as she mounted her grey horse. "Thank you for saving my daughter," he said, his arm wrapped protectively around a young girl.

Blue eyes flashed from under the Elf's hood. She looked at the girl, still clinging to her father, still frightened and confused by all that had happened to her… at least she wouldn't have to go through it all now. She could go home with her parents and still have her life. The Elf nodded, taking the reins and turning the horse about, starting it trotting towards the gate.

"Do… do you have a name?" The man called out, but he never received any answer. The horse left through the blasted gates and immediately quickened to a gallop.

Aerie. That was her name. But she hadn't done this because she wanted rewards or even just gratitude. She wanted no poems, or statues. There was one statue, but it didn't resemble her much now; at least, her hair was different. She'd cut it much shorter, around her neck. But no; she'd done this thing because there were people out there who stole other people's lives, erasing who those people were and binding and weighting them. They had no right to deprive anyone of their lives and freedom, but they did it and they never, ever stopped… and so neither could she. So long as anyone existed who trapped and abused others, she could never rest…

Except of course that she was only mortal and did in fact stop to rest a couple of hours later when it finally stopped raining. She made a circle out of stones, piled in some wood and used a fire wand to dry it out and ignite it. Then she drank some cold soup.

The clouds were clearing and stars were twinkling in the velvety sky. Her younger self would have stared at them for hours before drifting to sleep, picturing constellations, wondering what they were… but tonight she only spared them a cursory glance. She'd heard there were slavers operating from a small island off the coast not far from here… that would be her next target. Tomorrow she would ride to the nearest town and find out what she could. She still found it uncomfortable, sometimes, talking to strangers, but usually a small demonstration of her power was enough to convince most people to just tell her everything she wanted. By the time she finally did drift to sleep, she'd planned a further six sites to attack in the next couple of months, and in what order.

Sometime later, she felt herself being tickled. At least, something was scratching against her skin. She turned other, and through her hazy eyes saw a red haired woman with a scar over one eyebrow and a brush in her hand.

"Oh…" the woman said, clearly surprised to see Aerie awake. "Er.. nothing to worry about," she shrugged and grinned broadly. "I'm just doing a bit of painting… You just go on back to sleep."

"Okay," Aerie blinked and turned back again; she must have been having another one of those dreams. Except, there definitely was something tickling her skin, around her face… painting, she'd said…

Aerie's wide blue eyes snapped open, concurrently with her grabbing the redhead's wrist and pulling her down. They tumbled, Aerie finishing up on top, pinning the woman and looking into eyes aggressively… but then she softened…

"Imoen!" She gasped.

"Guess you're awake," the redhead blinked and shrugged… well, as much of a shrug as she could with her arms pinned.

"Wha…?" Aerie was about to ask a question, when Imoen kicked her legs up, wrapping her ankles around the Elf's neck and catapulting her off. Aerie rolled backwards through the dirt, landing on her feet facing the redhead, gritted teeth and fists clenched…

"Woah!" Imoen held up her palms peacefully. "Take it easy there, tiger," she said with a snigger.

"Tiger?"Aerie remembered the paint brush. Disregarding Imoen, she stomped back to her little campsite and started to rifle through a little sack, pulling out a blanket, spell components, various kinds of weapons, Elven chainmail, horse food, a small pen chisel thing for inscribing runes, more weapons, ammunition…

"Where are all your books?" Imoen arched an eyebrow. "You used to have a whole library in there..."

"They were taking up space," Aerie answered; Imoen looked strangely at her. "Even bottomless bags aren't really… bottomless…""Why'd you cut your hair? You trying to look more like me? Not that I could blame ya, but… you had nice hair."

Aerie remembered; Imoen used to love tying it in knots while she slept, or just pulling it across her face so it looked like she had a moustache… actually, that almost the Elf smile. But, "it wasn't me," she said. Finally she found what she was looking for. A small cracked mirror. She held it up to her face… stripes. And a little black smudge over her nose, and whiskers…

"Well, you _do_ look adorable!" Imoen sniggered.

Aerie shook her head, pursing her lips. "You haven't changed one bit," she grumbled.

"Nope. Thirty two, and still in my pranking prime, kiddo. Not sure I can say the same for you, though. Even I shouldn't have been able to sneak up on you that easily."

"No," Aerie sagged slightly; she really had let herself down, there. She'd reached as high a level in magic as any wizard on Faerun, but maybe that was making her too complacent. "But it won't happen again. In the meantime though… what in the nine hells are you doing here?"

"Oh, yeah," the redhead rolled her eyes, "'Heya Immy, ain't seen you in years! How are you? How's the guild business going?' What happened to you, kid? You used to have much better manners than that…"

"What guild?" Aerie absently asked as she started wiping away the face paint with a damp cloth.

"My guild… in Waterdeep? Sheez, Aerie, you used to be a lot more interested in people, too," the redhead sighed, "but you've not spoken to anyone in ages, have ya?"

"I'm sorry," the Elf lowered her head slightly, "I've been very busy as well."

"Yeah, I noticed… that's why finding you was so easy. They used to say chaos was sewn in my passage, but not even daddy dearest ever came close to the trail of destruction you've left everywhere. Just how many slavers have you killed?"

"I don't know… lots?" Aerie shrugged and started placing all her things back into her sack, "but they were all bad. Does it matter?"

"Well, personally I couldn't give a rat's arse about any of them… I am kind of worried about you, though…"

"You don't have to worry about me. As you can see, I'm fine. Is that all?"

Aerie's abruptness stunned Imoen into silence, although only for a second. "What do you mean, 'is that all'?"

The Elf sighed impatiently. "You don't have to all treat me like a child anymore. I am perfectly capable of surviving on my own," Aerie tied the sack closed, but noticed a few small things left on the ground; she tucked those into her belt. "It is good to see that you are well, Imoen, but I still have much work to do…" she was already packing things on her horse.

"No, Aerie, that is not all," the redhead put a hand on the Elf's shoulder before she could climb up. "You seem to have forgotten, but you have friends and, well, we're all worried about you."

Aerie turned her head, looking back at Imoen from under her V shaped brow, her blue eyes suddenly taking on a slight tint of red. "I really don't want to hurt you," she growled warningly, "I suggest you remove your hand." The redhead stepped, her eyes wide from shock; this was clearly not how she remembered Aerie. "Thank you," The Elf said, and climbed up.

The Elf was still tired as she cantered away, her head nodding slightly. It really was good to see Imoen again… but she really didn't want another lecture. She was tired of being told what to do by other people; she knew what she wanted, and she knew it was right. Someone in this wretched world had to bring justice to these people. The local laws in most lands were a joke, utterly used and abused by those with money and power. Jaheira and her Harpers seemed to do nothing but watch, allowing untold numbers of lives to be stolen before they decided to do anything about it. There was no other way; she had to do it.

She sighed. She could hear another set of hoof beats approaching her from behind. Under normal circumstances, the much lighter Avariel could easily have outrun Imoen on horseback, but she tired to race right now.

"Yer real buffleheaded if you think I'd give up that easy," the redhead grinned, now riding alongside her. "You'll see sense, kiddo, even if I have to beat it into ya."

"You don't give up, do you?"

"Bad habit I picked up from someone I used to know," Imoen winked, "so, I guess we're gonna really find out what happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object… I'm the irresistible one, obviously…"

"I just don't understand; what am I doing that's so wrong? You of all people should understand what it's like to be tortured and have your freedom taken away… people who do those things need to be punished, yes?"

"Sure, I've nothing against kicking their slimy butts once in a while. It's just that, it's all you do now."

"It's all they do as well."

"Look, all I'm saying is take a break. Have a vacation. Be nice if you came to visit me in Waterdeep. You'd like it."

"I wouldn't."

"You would."

"I don't like cities."

"People go there from all over the world… you hear all kinds of stories about faraway places," Imoen cooed slightly; Aerie started to lift her head.

"It… it doesn't matter," she said, shaking it, "I get nervous around so many people…"

"So you haven't changed that much, really," Imoen smiled ponderously, "there's a really good library near my place, too."

"I've… read enough books," although she had to admit there were a few more she was interested in…

"And an art gallery."

"I've… seen enough art," although it would be interesting to see what was produced with so many different cultural influences around…

"And a museum…"

"Who… really cares about the past, anyway?" Aerie did; she loved learning about history and made societies into what they were today…

"Or, if you like, we could go on an adventure… there are lots of place in Undermountain that still haven't been explored… we might find something no one else has laid eyes on for thousands of years…"

"Would it be dangerous?"

"Definitely."

Imoen still knew exactly how to push all her buttons… but there was one thing she'd forgotten…

"And, while I'm away, having fun," Aerie asked, "how many more people will be stolen from their homes and chained?"

"Aw, shucks Aerie. There are other people that can fight the good fight, y'know."

"How many with our power? "

"Well, not too many I'll admit…"

"So you're saying I should let inexperienced people go to fight? I can't," the Elf shook her head vigorously, "I can't let anyone else die… not when I have the power to stop it."

"You can't save everyone, Aerie, no matter how much power you have."

"I can try," the Elf hung her head sadly. They'd all come back to her, all the faces if those she couldn't save… mothers, fathers, children… caged and starved and beaten until their hearts just gave up. And she couldn't stop it… she'd no power to, then. "Someone has to try…"

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you happy?"

"I'm… I'm helping people. Of course I am happy."

"Right… it's just, when you said that you looked less convincing than a Vampire claiming to be a vegetarian," Imoen rolled her eyes, which were still just as bright and as sharp as they always had been. "Look, Aerrers, they took your wings. They took away who you were, separated you from your family and took your whole life away from you… but you were getting it back! You had friends and people who cared about you, and you wanted to travel places and learn all about them and their people…remember? You really cared about people, once, always pestering everyone with questions. But now, don't you see? You're letting the slavers take over your life again. If you really want to beat them, you've got to start living for yourself, not throw your life away on them."

"I… I can't let it happen to anyone else," the Elf answered, still shaking her head.

"Sooner or later you're gonna burn yourself out… or worse. You'll just start blocking out any feelings you have left for anything. And then who will you really be able to help?"

"So… so long as they're gone, does it matter what I feel?" Aerie's irises moved to the corners of her eyes, flickering from side to side slightly; this is what she did when she was thinking deeply about something. Imoen rolled her head, trying to smooth out some of the cramp she was feeling.

"All right, kid," the redhead sighed, "I ain't giving up. You think it all over, and I'll stick with you until then," of course, she would have stuck with Aerie long after that as well, whatever she decided.

Fate or the Gods or whatever, it seemed, were to give her a helping hand…

They were not the only ones on the road that night. It wasn't long before a Dwarf, who appeared ancient even by Dwarven standards and carrying the typical battleaxe that really seemed a little bit too big for him on his armoured, waved them down.

"Ye be looking t'cross the old Dwarven bridge ahead, aye?" He asked.

"I guess," Imoen shrugged. She had no idea where they were going.

"If ye want what's best for ye, ye should turn back now."

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Okay, let me guess; troll?"

"No."

"Witch?"

"No."

"Bridgekeeper who asks three silly questions?"

"No."

"Okay, I give. What is it?"

"It be… The Inquisitor. And he only ask ye one question; 'ave ye any guilt?"

"So some overzealous tin can is hogging the bridge… we can deal with that."

"Hubris, girlie, usually cometh before a fall," the old Dwarf sneered, turning the face her with his grey eyes bulging from his gaunt face. "This 'tin can' see, is just that; only there ain't nothing inside it!"

"So, you're saying there's some kind of magical construct made of armour?" Aerie asked. They had both encountered such constructs before; they could be very tough, but not without weaknesses. If you just dispelled the magic that held them together…

"No, girl, no," the Dwarf shook his head, falling roughly to sit on the ground. "Ye mean ye've never heard the story o'the Inquisitor?"

Imoen and Aerie looked at each other, and both shrugged. "No," they said.

"Aye… it be a legend only ever spoken in hushed whispers, in seedy Dwarven taverns where old warriors go t'drown away their woes…"

"I used to work in a place just like that," Imoen nodded, "well, if by warriors you mean scholars, and if by woes you mean someone else already took out the book they wanted…"

"They say he was a man, once, long time ago," The old Dwarf went on, totally ignoring her. Which was rude. "A knight in some order… he was dedicated to his duty and honour at the expense of all else, that eventually his body disappeared n'all that was left was his armour, roaming the land as a walking embodiment of Law."

"Vhailor?" Aerie arched an eyebrow.

"What?" Imoen asked.

"Oh… it's just a very similar story I heard once… from Haer'Dalis…"

"Don't know 'is name, if indeed he ever was a man," the Dwarf said, "All I know is that… thing, gazes into the hearts of any who cross his path, and any he finds guilty, he burns to ash."

"Sounds like a typical paladin to me," Imoen snorted.

"Only this one, see, is utterly insane. He senses the slightest bit of guilt over anything ye've ever done, it's cooking time. Suffice to say, no one who's ever crossed his path has ever lived long t'talk 'bout it."

"Oh, this is good," Imoen shook her head exasperatedly, "you should charge people for this. But tell me; if he's killed everyone he's met, how come you know so much about him?"

"Oh, couple of people have been able to outrun fer a short time, but he always get's em in the end," the old Dwarf looked up at them, tears welling up in his eyes. Imoen's cocky grin disappeared. "Me, I met him just about six moons ago… and he's been chasing me ever since. He don't eat, he don't sleep… he just keeps coming until he's got ye. And now… now I'm all worn out. I think… think I'm just gonna sit 'ere til he comes. You wanna what he did me for?" The old Dwarf chuckled madly. "I pinched a few coins from my momma's purse when I were fourteen! It's mad… totally mad…"

Both women were beginning to sense that this wasn't just local flavour they were experiencing, and dismounted their steeds. "There… there must be a way to kill it?" Aerie asked.

"If'n there is, I ain't found it. Not swords or axes or hammers, magic just comes right off him… it's a machine I tell ye… it don't stop, not ever… look!" The Dwarf's eyes lit up, and he pointed fearfully. "Here… here it comes!"

It was as the Dwarf said; a suit of armour clanking down the road, it's heavy boots pounding into the dirt with each lurch it took. The armour glistened in the moonlight, a strange shimmering glow all around it while the light from The Inquisitor's visor lit the area around it like a lamp.

"That's it!" The Dwarf laughed maniacally, standing up and grasping the axe. "Ye want me, ye can have me!" He charged, still cackling and screaming. It was clear he intended to sacrifice himself to The Inquisitor, and it was too late for either of the women to stop him. "'Ave at ye! Ya shiny tea totalling spirit bastard…"

The Inquisitor stopped and appeared to regard the rapidly approaching Dwarf with curiosity for a moment. The Dwarf had covered about half the distance between the armour and the two women, when it jerked it's right arm and jerked it back again drawing his sword. Holding it high, the blade began to shine as bright as day and then shoot outwards like the beam of a lighthouse, everything it touched bursting instantly to flame. He turned it towards the Dwarf, who kept running heedless of the danger. His battleaxe and armour melted, his hair and skin evaporated from his bones, which then burst into ash. And then The Inquisitor sheathed his blade and kept walking, clanking, moving inexorably towards his next victims…

Aerie and Imoen exchanged a shocked and puzzled look, and then understanding each other, they turned and began to chant. Magic spheres ripped from the air, balls of fire began to explode all around the approaching armour, smoke and dust kicked up all around it, blinding them for a moment; even Aerie's infravision was no good, with so much of the countryside now ablaze. But through it all, The Inquisitor kept coming, not so much as dent on him. He swung his arm, sending a shockwave through the air blowing both women's hair back as it swept over them.

"Run!" Imoen suggested.

"I… I was thinking that," Aerie said, grimacing. "It's just… I can't move my legs…"

"No… me neither."

"This is bad."

"Yup."

Stationary from the waist down, the two women could do no more than watch as The Inquisitor slowly lurched and cranked, eventually coming to stand just a few feet in front of them. His voice began to echo from within his helm.

"Stand, and be judged," it boomed.

"Not really given us much choice there, bud," Imoen snerked.

"All will be judged!" It boomed insistently.

"What, no jury?"

"I will examine your souls; if you have committed any crime for which you have gone unpunished, it will be revealed to me."

"Okay, well, suppose - just suppose - I was guilty of some small crime, say a little petty theft… what would the sentence be?"

"Death."

"I object!" Imoen waved her hands about furiously. "I wanna see my lawyer right now…"

"Silence!" It boomed. The Inquisitor creaked open his visor. It was as the Dwarf said… there was nothing inside. Just a brilliant white light. It turned to face Aerie first, or would have done if it had a face. The Elf winced, feeling the light enter under her skin, sinking through her… suddenly in the Inquisitors mask she saw faces from long ago. Slaves… she remembered them, beaten, starving, sick and dying… most of them children, like she had been…

"You did not save them," The Inquisitor spoke, "you watched and did nothing as they all suffered…" Aerie huffed, like she'd been punched in the gut, and then she saw herself when she was a child. Her momma was speaking to her, making her promise not to go too far from home, to stay with the other children... "Disobedience… recklessness… lack of respect…"

"I object!" Imoen's arm shot up, trying to get The Inquisitor's attention. "You're talking about something she did when she was a kid, and those other people she couldn't possibly have saved anyway…"

"She could have tried to do something," it said. Aerie felt another punch…

"Like what?" The redhead turned her palms up. She sighed. "Look, you're sensing guilt, right? But just because a person feels guilty about something, doesn't mean they've actually done anything bad… sometimes it's just easier to blame yourself than to blame other people," she shrugged several times. "Make you think you could control things that really you couldn't."

"I sense your guilt also," there was a metallic screech as the helmet twisted towards the redhead.

"Aw, so I pinched a few things," she waved a hand dismissively. "I put it all back where I found it… mostly, anyway…" but in fact, Imoen never felt any guilt about doing any of those things. The Inquisitor showed her something else; a face. A very kind face that had belonged to a half-elven man, the husband of a very good old friend…

"Khalid…" the redhead gasped, her eyes becoming still.

"You watched as his body was desecrated," The Inquisitor reminded her, "and you did nothing."

"That's…"

"I find you both, guilty," The Inquisitor.

"Woah… w-wait!" Imoen shook herself and her hand desperately. "First, answer me this; who gives you the right to go around judging people?"

"Who gives you? Have you not also both taken it upon yourselves to punish those you believe have done wrong."

"Ah… touché, Inquisitor, touché… I suppose I should have thought of that," Imoen shrugged sheepishly.

"It's no good, Imoen," Aerie shook her head sadly, "you can't reason with it, anyway. Maybe there was a man in there, once… but now it's little more than an automaton, or golem, bound to seek out and destroy the slightest guilt."

"Prepare to face judgement," The Inquisitor ordered, the visor slamming shut.

"Well, there is just one other thing I've got to tell you first," Imoen said. From the back of her belt she removed a thin climbing rope, and handed one end of it to Aerie while she uncoiled the rest…

"Your last words… Speak. But no magic or tricks."

"Yeah well, y'see, all this hand waving I've been doing… it ain't just because I'm an extroverted, although I am. Ready kid?" She looked sideways out of the corners of her eyes. Aerie nodded.

"His power comes from his sword," the Elf said, peering intently at The Inquisitor. "If we can get it off him, we might be able to use it against him."

"Gotcha," Imoen nodded. Even after all this time, they still understood each other perfectly, and Imoen's nod was the signal for them both to jump up and forwards, their legs unfrozen by the spell Imoen had cast. The rope, held tightly between them, snapped across The Inquisitors neck and he stumbled back. The women landed each side of him as he fell, Imoen scrambling quickly to unhook his belt, and then they both ran away with the sword.

They only ran a short distance; Imoen stopped and tossed the sword to the Elf, who immediately began to pore over the runes on the blade.

"Okay, quick!" The redhead said, a little out of breath. "Make it light up."

"I'm trying! I have to figure out how to activate it," Aerie squinted, "these runes are complex…"

Imoen shook her head, and looked back to where The Inquisitor had fallen. He had managed to get up, and was now stomping and clanking back towards them…

"It's alright; take your time," the redhead sighed, "luckily he walks pretty slow." She watched for ten seconds… twenty seconds… still clanking away, but moving with a steady inevitability, getting closer… "Um… might want to start hurrying a little bit now…"

Aerie shook her head… she realised she couldn't activate it. The sword was tuned specifically to The Inquisitor. There was no way… unless… she felt on her belt, and found the little chisel she used for inscribing runes. A plan took shape…

"I need just a bit more time!" She said.

"Great," Imoen bit her lip, turning to face The Inquisitor. She supposed there was nothing for it… "Hey, boiler," she called to the suit of armour, "Yeah, that's right bucko, I'm talking to you… over here!" She threw a small stone, which clanged and bounced harmlessly off the plate, but it did get his attention… Imoen a few more fireballs just to make sure it was undivided.

The Inquisitor approached and tried to reach out and grab, but Imoen was still as quick as she'd always been, easily ducking under his arms and proceeding to dance all around him. He grabbed and lunged many times, but found nothing but air… at least, until she started to get tired. He then caught with his elbow, making her fly back several feet… she could only hope that was enough time, before losing consciousness.

Aerie looked up, just in time to see The Inquisitor lunging towards her, and just enough time to jump back out of the way. But she'd left the sword lying there…

"There is no sense in running or fighting," The Inquisitor's voice boomed as he lifted the blade, "your friend tried to fight me, but she failed. Now you will both accept you judgement."

"I don't think so," Aerie smirked, her small lips curling upwards. "You see, my friend didn't fail; she bought me the time I needed to figure out how to destroy you. But before I blast you to the higher planes," she sighed, "I… I suppose I should thank you."

"Thank me?" The Inquisitor seemed genuinely fascinated for a moment.

"For showing me what I might have become if I'd stayed on the path I was on. A mindless, unthinking machine obsessed with law and justice, without thought or reason or compassion… that… that's not me. Now, if you'll forgive the cliché," she said, her blue eyes flashing as her grin grew wider, "_reach for da skies, ya' filthy varmint!_"

And so he did; The Inquisitor raised the blade high over his head. It lit up, just like before, but instead of the beam being projected onto Aerie, it spread out, downwards, around The Inquisitor. The armour started to bubble and boil. Aerie gazed into the visor, watching him as he appeared to grow shorted…

"_J…Jus…Justice!_" The Inquisitor called out one last time, as he melted away into the earth.

"Indeed," Aerie nodded satisfactorily.

Imoen approached, rubbing her sore chin. "You switched it, eh?"

"Yup. It was quite simple to change the runes for the area of effect."

"Yeah, that was pretty good thinking there, bufflehead," the redhead sniggered, "don't get too cocky about it though… I mean, I'd have thought of it as well."

"Sure," Aerie rolled her eyes.

"I mean I did teach ya everything I know, didn't I"

"Well, it only took half an hour so it's kind of hard to remember…"

"_Cocky,_" Imoen punched her friend gently on the arm. "We still make a great team though, right? You're the muscle, and I'm like some sage who's there whispering all my wise thoughts and guidance into your ear."

"Right," Aerie shook her head, smiling. "Do please continue to teach me, oh wise one," the Elf bowed theatrically.

"Really?" Imoen's eyebrow arched.

"Really," The Elf nodded once.

"Well, that's…" Imoen shook her head, and just embraced her friend in a big old hug; the friend who had just come back to her. "So, where will we go now?"

"I hear there are lots of things to do in Waterdeep," the Elf reminded her; the two of them started to return to the road for their horses.

"Undermountain?" Imoen asked, pulling herself up into the saddle.

"Yes… undiscovered treasures," Aerie's eyes sparkled as her horse started to trot. "Wisdom from the ancient past…"

"This is gonna be great kid… it's gonna be you and me, kiddo, together forever… and ever…"

And Ever.


End file.
